


Worth the Wait

by Gondolin



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Closeted Character, Family, Family Fluff, Family Reunions, Gay Character, Gen, I have no excuses, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Podfic Welcome, Pre-Canon, no actual plot, very implied no one openly talks shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 06:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20634896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gondolin/pseuds/Gondolin
Summary: The youngest of the Hart clan is getting married to a Somali princess he met at Oxford. Sometimes Harry thinks a drunk Downton Abbey writer is scripting his life. But mostly he is the drunk one, because his little brother is getting married and he's so happy for him, so proud to see him dazzling the room in his high uniform, smiling like he's just discovered the light of day. His bride is incredibly charming, and, were Harry so inclined, he'd run the risk of falling in love with her.





	Worth the Wait

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the many snippets I write in the body of emails to send to a friend (this was from 2017), so there is no real plot and very vague implied crossover with Another Country (delightful film and even more delightful play, do watch it if you have the chance) in the form of uncle Ernest (who is meant to be Rupert Everett in that film).

2005 or earlier, Poshestershire

The youngest of the Hart clan is getting married to a Somali princess he met at Oxford. Sometimes Harry thinks a drunk Downton Abbey writer is scripting his life. But mostly he is the drunk one, because his little brother is getting married and he's so happy for him, so proud to see him dazzling the room in his high uniform, smiling like he's just discovered the light of day. His bride is incredibly charming, and, were Harry so inclined, he'd run the risk of falling in love with her. She's taller than her husband by a few inches, and gives no fucks, rocking a pair of gold stilettos that peek out from underneath the white gown, reflecting the light from the chandeliers. She laughs when she feels like it, loudly, and is chillingly polite to all the relatives Harry himself despises. She is whip smart and she looks like she's having the time of her life - despite the old mummies she's been forced to talk to.

Harry is drunk because he is happy, and he is all the happier because he is drunk. Sober Harry would have a hard time tolerating some of the comments he is hearing, about his sister-in-law and, mostly, about himself. His younger brother is getting married, but why is he still a "confirmed bachelor"? Harry would love nothing but to yell: "Yes, I suck cock, YUMMY, YUMMY, YUMMY!" but he desperately needs to maintain a low profile, and this is the kind of family gathering where journalists are part of the crowd. A gentleman's name should appear in the paper only three times, or, in Harry's case, two. Merlin sometimes jokes about writing a joint memoir to be published after their deaths and give it the title "The Fags That Saved Your Country", tagline "Al Quaeda was not the only pain in my arse". Harry sincerely hopes he is only joking and doesn't have a manuscript stashed somewhere. You never know with Merlin.

In the crowd, he spots a familiar figure he hasn't seen in years. Uncle Ernest still dresses like a turn of the century aristocrat and wears too much velvet. As Harry makes his way towards him, Ernest turns and widens his eyes, then his expression breaks into a wide smile. He maintains his good looks, and age has not made him sad, merely added lines to his boyish face. It's a strange effect - or maybe Harry is just surprised to see him age at all. Uncle Ernest had always looked unchanging to him, like a fixture of family reunions more than an actual member of the clan. He's always been Harry's favourite uncle.

"Harry, my boy! Am I glad to see you!" he says, taking him into a tight embrace. Uncle Ernest had always been thin, all bones and angles under his pretty face, and this at least hasn't changed.

"I am nearing forty, uncle, I am no longer a boy."

Ernest laughs and winks at him. "You will always be, to me. I still remember you running around in shorts causing mischief."

"Slander. I was a perfectly well behaved child."

"Could have fooled me. Come on," he says, taking Harry by the arm and stealing a champagne bottle from a passing waiter, "Let's go reminisce and gossip a little."

"Balcony?"

"Balcony."

They make their way out of the crowd and onto the large balcony. No one is tired enough or drunk enough to be out here yet, and the air is a bit chilly. Harry produces a silver case from his breast pocket and smoothly slides out a cigarette. Then he holds the box towards uncle Ernest, who gladly accepts. They smoke in silence for a moment.

"They never really stop nagging," Ernest says, out of the blue.

"Pardon me?"

"The relatives, about getting married."

Harry frowns and takes a sip directly from the bottle because fuck it. They are having This Conversation, after all. He thought it'd never come, and he was quite pleased with the fact.

"Unless, of course," uncle Ernest goes on, looking straight at him, "You do have a woman stashed somewhere and were just taking your time."

Harry raises one eyebrow. "Stashed somewhere? Don't be crass, uncle."

"You know what I mean, dear boy."

"And you bloody well know there are no women, nor there will ever be."

Ernest lightly taps his cigarette, letting a small pile of ash fall on the white parapet, only to be blown away by a gust of wind. "I supposed as much, but I couldn't quite well ask directly, could I?"

"So that's how it goes on forever, then? And they truly believe the pretense?"

"I've never been very good at pretending, Harry, you must know that, and so does most of the family. You, on the other hand..."

"I what?"

"Since we're in the mood for confessions," Ernest snags the bottle from Harry and takes a drink himself, "You should know that I am aware of your extracurricular activities."

Harry stares at him, dumbfounded. He couldn't possibly mean...

"At Kingsman Tailors," Ernest clarifies, with an emphasis on "tailors" that leaves no doubt as to what kind of activities he's referring to.

Just as Harry is about to protest, uncle Ernest raises a hand, palm out. "Don't bother with the denial. I know you're good at that, too, but I'm no Arthur. You don't have to prove shit to me. Oh, yes, I am quite aware of the inner workings of your workplace. You see, I have some, uhm, personal experience with that."

Scratch the drunk Downton Abbey writer, this was becoming a soap, and a bad one at that.

"Of course, I wasn't let into your little club. I was never one for the straight and narrow anyway," he didn't even bother laughing at his own joke, and drank some more, "But they helped me and I helped them back in the day. Oh, don't fret about your reputation, the only one who survives from that time is old Chester, now. Went to Eton together," Ernest waved a hand vaguely in the air and smirked.

Harry wanted to be angry at his uncle for never telling him any of that, but he was aware of the futility of the exercise. There were things that were best left unmentioned, and things that needed to stay dormant. He of all people understood the need for secrecy.

Uncle Ernest flicked the cigarette out, and rested a hand on Harry's forearm. He squeezed delicately and let go. "It's not a bad life. Don't feel sorry for me, my boy," he looked at the glittering lights inside, "And, you know, things do change, even here."

**Author's Note:**

> "YUMMY YUMMY, I love to suck cock" is a quote from the most iconic moment of the tv show Homeland (I quit it a billion seasons ago and have no idea what's going on in it at the moment).
> 
> Also, just to clarify, Poshestershire doesn't actually exist. It's just an imaginary place where all the posh people in my fandoms go to congregate.


End file.
